


Forbidden Sun

by emptymasks



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Genderfluid, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, POV Third Person, Song Lyrics, Swearing, Vampire Crowley listens to The Smiths, Vampire Hunters, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-30 06:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19847521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptymasks/pseuds/emptymasks
Summary: "Well..." The human shifted his weight from foot to foot. "You must have donesomething. You're a vampire, you feed on people.""Hey, some humans are quiet happy to be fed on. Some even come here asking for it." Crowley grinned, letting his fangs peak out of hiding. "Much easier if you ask me. Finding willing humans. It's such a waste of time to fight with your food, but most vampire just can't move on with the times.""That doesn't make you less evil.""Evil? Oh what, and you're an angel I take it? A saint?" Crowley was chuckling out loud now. "So that's what you're here for then, to vanquish some evil? Well I've got bad news for you angel, I'm definitely bad, but evil might be overdoing it."---Vampire! Crowley and Hunter! Aziraphale AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah shit,” Said the vampire, who had taken to being called Crowley rather than his first name. He flicked his wrist and allowed the now burning letter to become a pile of forgotten dust.
> 
> The raven perched on the windowsill let out a dissatisfied noise.

_Bonun vesperam, Mx. Anthony J. Crowley_

_As you should be aware, another Dark Council meeting approaches. We’ve taken to sending you a letter once again, but this time rest assured that if you do not send us a reply assuring us of your attendance we shall continue to send a raven to your castle every hour we do not hear back from you._

_It is of the utmost importance that all of us vampires invited to the council meetings do attend. Did you not mean for us to reward you? Imbibe praise, feel honoured you should be invited again after the last few meetings._

_The meeting this time will be held at Lord Asmodeus’ manor, we trust you have retained the location of it. Thursday, 11pm. Not the usual Friday as the meeting transgressed Lord Asmodeus’ mind and he’s planned one of his… gatherings that evening. We thought it best to place the meeting before then so as to not have to descry the aftermath of such pursuits._

_Be there, Crowley._

_By your leave,_

_Barbatos, Duke of the 3 rd Lanterne, House Lecrouse _

“Ah shit,” Said the vampire, who had taken to being called Crowley rather than his first name. He flicked his wrist and allowed the now burning letter to become a pile of forgotten dust.

The raven perched on the windowsill let out a dissatisfied noise.

“Oh you can shut right up. I’ve got enough people discontent with me right now, I don’t need bloody birds joining in.” Crowley stalked towards the large, wooden desk, almost pulling the entire drawer out of place as he searched for paper.

Bloody dark council and their bloody meetings (Entirely different from their Bloody Meetings, Crowley made sure not to go to those). But what on earth was the point in still having these meetings? When the council had started, matters such as where gullible humans tended to occupy, how to keep yourself from being discovered, and where to get some decent blackout curtains. Nowadays, with the supernatural being less of a myth and more of a sort of accepted fact by most people, though everyone thinks if they don’t talk about them then they’re not real, they weren’t really in need of clandestine meetings anymore. No more pulling yourself into the deepest shadows, no more than a hushed whisper concerning your ceaseless wearing of sunglasses, no more worries about when you’ll get your next meal now being bitten was a fantasy of many (Crowley shuddered at the thought of thanking Stephenie Meyer for something).

He sealed the lazily written reply, reassuring the council that, yes, he would be attending. It would be best to not piss them off; No one wants a legion of vampires turning up on their doorstep.

“Right, take that and shove off,” Crowley tied the letter to the raven’s foot and gave it a sharp glare as it turned and flew off.

Now, what had he been doing before the interruption?

His golden eyes scanned around the ornate bedroom swallowed in deep reds and blacks, until they landed on the large bed. The silk covers had been pushed off in a lazy rush to stop the annoying bird from giving up on tapping and just breaking through the damn glass. The many sheets and blankets were intertwining around each other, clinging to each other as they twisted and pooled at the wooden floor.

“Ah yes,” Crowley murmured as he crawled onto the bed and slunk underneath the covers, waving his hand to pull them up tight around him.

The council meeting was Thursday, that gave him a whole four days of rest before he needed to get up. That should be enough sleep.

\-----

It was not enough sleep. Nothing could have been enough sleep to get him through this.

“…but yes I agree Hastur, being tricked into buying transition lenses, poor boy, I say that…” Stolas’ voice faded out to Crowley as turned his attention to counting how many bricks where on the far wall.

They’d seated him behind Lord Beezlebub, who was busy peeling layers of wood of the table with their black nails, and Dukes Hastur and Ligur, who were either needing to go to the bathroom or kicking each other underneath the table, and given that vampires didn’t go to the bathroom that really narrowed down the options.

“…Crowley…” Someone spoke and Crowley supposed the polite thing to do was at least pretend he was paying attention.

“What about him?” Beezlebub flicked a thin slice of wood across the table at Asmodeus.

“He’s one of yours right? I heard he caused Gabriel Arch’s not-so-secret safe house to burn down. Nice work,” Asmodeus tipped a red-rimmed glass in his direction.

A jab in the shin from Beezlebub told him he’d taken too long to answer.

“My thanks, Lord Asmodeus,”

“Shame the git wasn’t in there when the place burnt down.” Ligur glared back at him.

“Too right, bit of a failure if you ask me.” Hastur agreed.

“No one did ask you,” Crowley muttered.

“Regardless,” Asmodeus boomed. “The supplies the hunters lost in that fire will have set them back a fair amount.”

The conversation drifted back to things Crowley didn’t concern himself with.

That was why he’d been called here then, the fire. Look, so the idiot hunter couldn’t quit his smoking habit and had not properly put the cigarette out before he tossed it haphazardly into cut-outs from newspapers, or empty photographs, or pornography, or whatever Gabriel decorates his walls with. Crowley just saw an opportunity and took it. It’s Gabriel’s own fault that he’s too proud to say the fire was an accident he caused, and so blamed it on vampires, and Crowley would just hate for Gabriel’s pride too be bruised. As long as it suited him.

An excruciating amount of time later Crowley was sauntering down the stairs out of the manor and towards his car.

“I don’t understand why you drive that thing. You know you can just grow some wrings or something, right?” Beezlebub sneered.

Crowley slammed the door, eager to encase himself in any space that was vampire-free, excluding himself of course (most of the time). Maybe he didn’t want to unnecessarily tire himself out by flying back home and maybe it was nice to not have a reminder of what he is. Maybe it was nice to just drive and let his eyes and thoughts focus on the road and the music and try and feel like he was something normal. The Bentley sang:

_Punctured bicycle_

_On a hillside desolate_

_Will Nature make a man of me yet?_

_When in this charming car_

_This charming man_

Music, one of the things that has evolved beautifully over time… at least if Crowley ignored the last couple of decades. He had a collection of cassettes inside the Bentley, some Genesis, some Queen, both great bands, but Crowley found that over the life of solitude that stretches on for eternity, with him rarely even going outside anymore (he’ll not admit that the council meeting is the first time he’d been outside in six months), he finds himself more drawn to The Smiths. The underlying darkness and despair in the lyrics of the songs and Morrissey’s voice calls out to something in him, often just lying like a starfish in the middle of his bed and listening to their albums for hours as he tries to disconnect his mind from his body

Crowley was curled back up in his sheets all too soon. Perhaps four years of sleep this time would be better than four days. Think of how many council meetings he could miss out on in four years. The smile that was fleetingly on his face at that thought was the first one to grace his presence all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to everyone on the r/goodomens discord server who has listened to me rant and plan this story out, thank you so much. finally a chapter is up.
> 
> also, i made a playlist for this fic, it's what ive been listening to to get me in the mood for writing this: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6SduTmOoEjXCTjZGo2x89O


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He picked himself up off the floor and started to climb back up the stairs, black nails scraping against the banister as he dangled the plastic bottle loosely from his other hand. He was thinking about downing the bottle and then throwing himself back onto his bed when he stopped in the middle of his ascent.
> 
> His nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air.
> 
> There was a human just outside of the castle.

If only sleep didn’t get boring.

Crowley shoved the covers and slunk off the bed. God, life was boring. Occasional meetings and drinking. That was it. Sure he could get a job, some vampires do, but those that have inherited properties and fortunes and the like, don’t need a job to get by. He _could_ get a job, it would stop him from slinking around the castle all day, but Crowley felt like he wasn’t really a ‘people person’.

Well whatever, right now he could just focus on getting some blood out of the fridge. That was one of the first steps he’d taken when he’d moved in, getting electricity in this place. He couldn’t understand some vampire’s aversion to technology. Did they not understand how much easier it was to keep some blood in a fridge or freezer in case anything happens in the long run, just to keep some spare, or just so you don’t have to go out every time you want a drink. Honestly. Get with the times.

But the castle… yeah that wasn’t really Crowley’s choice. Here he is in a classic vampire castle, but it was by accident really. Once again, he was bragging about how many humans he’d turned and bad deeds he’d done for Lucifer’s grand plan of overtaking humans; He’d been puffing himself up and they just said, well here, Lord Baphomet is moving to France so here why don’t you take his old castle. What was he supposed to do? Say no? So now here he is, with an entire gothic castle to himself when he would very well be content with just a small apartment. Honestly, what were you even meant to do with this many rooms? He never understood why vampires had this many rooms when most of them lead pretty solitary lives.

The fridge creaked open, as every door in a vampire’s adobe should, and Crowley blindly grabbed one of the many old plastic bottles. He swung his body back in an exaggerated swig of the blood. Right, that’s feeding off the checklist now… Back to sleep?

He sighed and sunk onto the floor in front of the fridge. What was the point of eternity when there’s nothing to do. Beelzebub and the others just fell in line with whatever Lucifer wanted, and who the fuck knew what he wanted these days. So many of them just executed their own ideas and passed them off as ‘something Lucifer would agree with’ as if they would know, as if they knew him, personally, and what he would want. Lucifer kept to his own clan, rarely interacted with the other six clans he had serving him. The original promise in joining Lucifer’s clans was just better rights for vampires, not having to live in the shadows and in the night and in secret. That evolved over time to more and more hatred and now what? World domination? That seemed to be the way things were going, at least that’s what Beelzebub always said.

Crowley let his back slide down against the smooth, glossy door and figured he could just sleep anywhere. At this point in his life he felt like he was just waiting for things to happen. Vampires didn’t need sleep, and yet he constantly slept just to pass the time. How fucking pathetic.

_When you say it's gonna happen "now",_

_Well, when exactly do you mean?_

_See I've already waited too long,_

_And all my hope is gone._

He picked himself up off the floor and started to climb back up the stairs, black nails scraping against the banister as he dangled the plastic bottle loosely from his other hand. He was thinking about downing the bottle and then throwing himself back onto his bed when he stopped in the middle of his ascent.

His nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air.

There was a human just outside of the castle.

Great. Just what he needed. Some teenager trying to do some urban exploring or find a place to make-out. Or worse, someone who’s heard rumours and has turned up to beg to be turned into a vampire.

He made his way back down the stairs and headed towards the entrance to the castle. He’d rather poke his head out for a brief ‘fuck off’ rather than wait for them to break in. Perhaps he could have a little fun scaring them, it’d been a long time since he’d had the chance to spring on someone trying to break in. His apartment before this had been quaint, no one really knew there was a vampire there, though people suspected. But here, what with this being the recently former home of Lord Baphomet, arguable the most violent of Lucifer’s followers, anyone who knew the slightest bit about vampires didn’t tent to tread here. It was well secluded and it’s not as if any…

Shit.

They’d have to be an idiot to come alone but…

He could smell the sulphur and sage.

A hunter.

But what idiot hunter would come here on their own? They were definitely on their own, unless they were expecting company later on. Were they trying to prove something? If they thought Baphomet was still here he supposed it could be some new, naïve hunter trying to take down some big, bad vampire lord. Unless they were after him but, not many knew of Baphomet’s move.

Glass smashed somewhere in the distance.

The hunter had made it into the castle.

Well… he could go and track him down… Or… Or he could sit and wait in that hall with the throne it in and be all dramatic. That would be more fun.

He looked down at himself. He hadn’t changed clothes in days, he’d only thrown a coat on to go to the council, and when he’d gotten back all he’d done was taken said coat off and crawled into bed still dressed, not even taking off his boots.

There was a plethora of mirrors scattered throughout the castle, and he stopped by one on his way to the throne room. He hummed as buttoned his shirt, it having come undone in the days of sleep. He toyed around with how many buttons to leave open and tucked the billowing, black fabric into his equally jet black jeans. Waves of red were spilling down his back and he swept them back from his brows to tie some of the stands into a small bun at the back of his head. He stared at his own reflection, yellow eyes gazing back, two streetlamps in the dark. He sighed and outstretched a hand as one of his many pairs of glasses obediently flew into his hand.

_I am sick and I am dull,_

_And I am plain,_

_How dearly I'd love to get carried away,_

_Oh but dreams have a knack of just not coming true,_

_And time is against me now._

Crowley all but threw himself onto the throne. He swung his legs over one of the arms, and lent back against the other until he gave up and let his head fall back and off the edge of the armrest. He swung his feet in boredom. The hunter would find him… eventually.

“So you’ve finally found me,” Crowley said to no one. “Ugh too cliché.”

He lifted his head up to down the rest of the blood in the bottle, before tossing it haphazardly away from him.

“Finally, I’ve been dying of boredom waiting for you to get here,” Too long?

“Took you long enough,” Is that snappier?

“What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets,” Better, but perhaps a little too over-dramatic.

“How about-” Crowley stopped short, there was a change in the air.

They were getting close. Very close. They were approaching the room.

Showtime.

As the hunter pushed open one of the large, ornate doors, Crowley flicked his hand and the candles on the walls burst to life; Starting with the ones closest to the hunter and crescendoing as the row of them curved around the back of the throne.

The hunter was… not what he was expecting.

They didn’t seem like some young, new recruit. They walked with a confidence in their step, an experienced hunter then? But why come here? If they were here for Baphomet they’d know not to come on their own, and if they were here for himself… Well he hadn’t done anything, for hell’s sake. This wasn’t good. He might actually have to put up a fight against this… Surprisingly well-groomed looking hunter.

The creeping throbbing in Crowley’s head alerted him to the fact that he’d just been staring this entire time.

"Could you put that cross down, or at least lower it a tad? The glare from it is starting to give me an awful migraine." Crowley swung his legs off the arm of his throne, though he thought the term a bit too pompous, the movement twisting his body around.

"Oh yes, right, sorry- Wait, no!" The hunter’s face was full of emotion.

Crowley let out a puff of air in a silent chuckle. Now he was sitting straight forward he could have a proper look at the human; His pale clothing and hair almost glowing in the candle-lit room, his arms were folding and unfolding as they juggled the books, torch, and aforementioned cross to keep them from clattering against the cold, stone floor. He seemed rather flustered at his instincts to be polite. How amusing, a human being polite to a vampire.

"No?" Crowley lent forward, his lower arms bracing his weight against his thighs.

"No. I'm not going to lower my defences."

"Against what? I'm just sitting here."

"Well..." The hunter shifted their weight from foot to foot. "You must have done *something*. You're a vampire, you feed on people."

Interesting. They seemed reluctant to fight. Perhaps he could get out of this with just his words. Perhaps a little tempting.

"Hey, some humans are quiet happy to be fed on. Some even come here asking for it." Crowley grinned, letting his fangs peak out of hiding. "Much easier if you ask me. Finding willing humans. It's such a waste of time to fight with your food, but most vampire just can't move on with the times."

"That doesn't make you less evil." They bit back.

"Evil? Oh what, and you're an angel I take it? A saint?" Crowley was chuckling out loud now. "So that's what you're here for then, to vanquish some evil? Well I've got bad news for you angel, I'm definitely bad, but evil might be overdoing it."

He could have thought he saw the hunter’s cheeks flush at the nickname, but it was hard to tell with the glow of the candles gleaming like a halo against the hunter’s near-white hair.

“Shall we just get this out of the way, look, are you here to kill me or not?” Crowley said.

“Oh, well… Rather, a little embarrassing I suppose, but I don’t exactly know who you are… You see, I’m aware that a Lord Baphomet resided in here. We had heard rumours about him leaving the country, but we weren’t certain. I knew someone was here though, you see, someone decided to set a building of ours on fire. No one was hurt, apart from a sum of books I’d been particularly fond off,” They trailed off into a mutter. “But, I followed the vile criminal back to, well, here. This castle.”

Shit. The fire. How had he not noticed he’d been followed?

“So, I’m guessing I’m the vile criminal?”

“It would appear so… So who are you? I don’t believe we’ve crossed paths before.”

“Oh believe me angel, I’d remember you,” Crowley pushed himself off the throne and sauntered towards the hunter. “Anthony J. Crowley. Just, call me Crowley.”

“Well, _Crowley_ , I have to say this isn’t how I expected things to go… You really don’t seem like you’re about to attack me.”

“Why would I attack you when you haven’t attacked me?”

“Well- But you’re-” They gestured at him with their head, arms crammed full and unable to move. “A _vampire_.”

“And? You’re a hunter and I don’t see you about to attack me. It seems like you didn’t even come fully armed.” Crowley pointed at the empty fastening on the hunter’s belt where it seems a sheath would have been.

“Well I have a stake here… somewhere…”

“I’d offer you a drink, but all I would have to offer is tap water. I take it you wouldn’t want blood.”

“You… What? Why would you be offering me a drink?”

Crowley wished he knew the answer to that question. It had just sort of… come out. Stupid lonely vampire and this growing feeling to latch onto this funny, little human.

“Well, you just seem to have been promoted from threat to guest. Unless, you do still have intentions to kill me?”

“I… Well…”

“You really shouldn’t kill me unless I’ve actually done something evil.”

“You might have done.”

“You don’t have proof.”

“I’ll find proof!” The hunter’s face was definitely getting flushed now. “And I didn’t come here to have some wanton vampire lure me deeper into their home-”

“Wanton!?”

“And, although you seem a decent fellow, I am not going to be falling for any potential tricks and you’ll just have to escort me out of your castle.”

Crowley was aware the hunter was just staring at him, but the word wanton was just replaying over and over again in his mind.

“Well?” The hunter said.

Crowley made an unintelligible mash of syllables and coughed.

“Right. Fine. Sorry for asking,” He slunk out of the room, aware of the hunter trailing behind him. He kept looking back to make sure they were still there, catching them looking at Crowley with an odd expression.

“What?” He stopped and turned, they were almost at the front doors.

“I… Well, I didn’t mean any offence, my dear boy. You do seem to actually have kept your word to not... drain me dry. You can’t blame me for assuming things.”

“I bloody well can,” Crowley muttered and looked at the ground.

And the ground had a hand in front of it.

“Aziraphale,” The hunter, _Aziraphale_ , said. “Aziraphale Princer.”

“And you’re a…?”

Aziraphale furrowed his brows and tilted his head.

“He, she, they, faer, xir-”

“Oh! He, um, male… That’s very nice of you to ask. I don’t normally, well I’ve never introduced myself to a vampire before but…”

Crowley took his hand and Aziraphale had this small smile on his face as he shook it.

He looked pure.

Too pure.

“I am, um, sorry about the books. Was just trying to prove myself to my boss,”

“Oh, well, don’t worry about it, I have plenty. And, if I’m honest, the only reason _I_ came here was to try and impress _my_ boss.”

“Ah yes, didn’t take you for the lone hunter type. Which one is your boss then, Michael? Uriel?”

“I shouldn’t say,”

“Don’t tell me it’s Gabriel.”

Aziraphale glanced down at his shoes.

“Oh shit. How does someone like you, work for someone like Gabriel?”

“Someone like me?”

“Well, you know,” Crowley wasn’t blushing, vampires didn’t have circulation, therefore blushing was not something that could happen. “Gabriel is more, ‘shoot first, ask questions later’, and brash, and always swinging that whip around. You’re more… quaint? Or, no, just… Well less violent and more…”

“Meek?”

“Kind.”

“Oh.”

Crowley couldn’t stand this new silence and shuffled forwards to open the door.

“Right, well, I’ll be on my way then.” Aziraphale said as he stepped out into the chilly night.

“Should I expect you to be gathering any proof against me?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well… If you ever needed to, or wanted to, you know this castle has a library somewhere and you could always take what you wanted as a, well maybe a sort of apology, or something…”

Aziraphale stared at him.

“Not that I’m saying you would want to! You’re a hunter, I’m a vampire. I’m just… tempting you into… spending more time with me… Well, good night!” Crowley slammed the door in Aziraphale’s face and didn’t move until Aziraphale finally started to walk away.

What the hell was he thinking!? Inviting a human over? As if after just meeting him, he was going to be happy to hang out as if they were becoming friends. What a stupid, foolish thing to do. He didn’t need friends. He didn’t need anyone. He didn’t need Aziraphale.

_Call me morbid, call me pale,_

_I've spent too long on your trail,_

_Far too long,_

_Chasing your tail,_

_Oh..._

He ran his hands against his face and they touched something wet.

Pathetic.

He walked back to his room.

_And if you have five seconds to spare,_

_Then I'll tell you the story of my life._

He needed to stop thinking about him. Aziraphale wasn’t going to come back. He wasn’t going to see him again. He wasn’t going to talk to him again.

He didn’t even trust himself to try and talk to him again. He’d been stuttering all over the place. So much for the plan of looking intimidating and cool.

He took the time to pull off his clothes and grabbed a black robe to tie around himself. He reached back and pulled his hair free.

Time to sleep again. Vampires didn’t need sleep, but when he was asleep he didn’t have to think or feel.

He really wanted to not think or feel for a while.

_I said: "I like it here - can I stay?_

_I like it here - can I stay?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, a little update alongside this chapter, i'm going to be including song lyrics. on the r/goodomens discord (join me there if you want to hear me rant about this au) we have the headcannon that angel! crowley would listen to abba instead of queen, and as much as i think my vampire! crowley would listen to queen, i think his main band is going to be the smiths.
> 
> i've made a playlist of all the songs featured in the fics so far, and new songs will be added as the chapters are uploaded (so nothing gets spoiled): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4o5yDb8rrIFRQ3VTlYydo1
> 
> also ace. thank you so much i cannot believe you drew my vampire crowley design. im still in tears over it.
> 
> and if anyone is interested in my drawings for this au, i might post them to tumblr and share any drawings in an extra chapter on here when the fic is finished... i'm still thinking about making comics for this fic too so we'll see it that happens

**Author's Note:**

> to everyone on the r/goodomens discord server who has listened to me rant and plan this story out, thank you so much. finally a chapter is up. Ally, Karp, Mio: thank you so much for letting me bounce ideas of you and for helping me out with planning this story.
> 
> i've made a playlist of all the songs featured in the fics so far, and new songs will be added as the chapters are uploaded (so nothing gets spoiled): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4o5yDb8rrIFRQ3VTlYydo1
> 
> also, i made a playlist for this fic, it's what ive been listening to to get me in the mood for writing this: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6SduTmOoEjXCTjZGo2x89O


End file.
